RIVER CITY JOURNAL: DRIVEWAY PROJECT HAS THE ADDED BENEFIT OF AN AUDIENCE OF ONE

And it wasn't even my driveway. But I come by gaping at skilled work naturally. To me, it's like watching Picasso paint houses.

It has been a busy week in our neighborhood, thanks to my unofficial duties as sidewalk superintendent of my new neighbor's driveway project.

I have tried, as best I can, to look supportive, and the concrete workers, I am quite sure, appreciate a compliment as much as anyone else. It is, in fact, easy for me to give these workers a heartfelt thumbs up, because I am awed by what they do. As far as I'm concerned, they have created a work of art that flows from my new neighbor's garage door all the way down to the street.

Once upon a time, my wife and I built a house on a hillside that sloped sharply into woods atop a limestone bluff. I say we built it, but of course we didn't hammer or saw or wire or plumb or pour concrete. We paid artisans to do all that.

Our job -- one I took very seriously -- was to stand nearby and watch. I tried not to get in the way, but I know it must have been a little unnerving to some of the workers who were being watched so closely -- and silently -- by the guy who was signing the checks.

Sure, there were occasions when the workers and I had conversations just like real people. Once I even told a plumber that the water pipes he was installing across the ceiling of the soon-to-be family room would have to be relocated. That too was a real-life conversation.

Most of all, I took every opportunity to compliment the workers who built the house that Joe paid for. I complimented them because I really was amazed at the things they did. Bricklayers, for example, laid bricks that stayed in straight lines with mortar that didn't ooze all over the place. Yes, I could tell you stories about oozing mortar when I have attempted to build brick walls. But you don't want to hear them, and I'd be terribly embarrassed.

As a matter of fact, I have become something of an authority on bricks, but only the kind that go flat on the ground for walks and patios. No mortar. That's the key.

When the woodworking people started on our new house's fireplace mantels, I oohed and aahed so much that the fellow doing the work started showing off, adding layers of fancy millwork that were never intended to go into this particular house. The result: A display of woodworking brilliance that became a conversation starter for almost every visitor to our new home. See, it pays to let craftsmen know they are appreciated.

So, even though the concrete finishers working on my new neighbor's driveway weren't working for me, I felt that an experienced admirer like myself owed it to them to let them know how well they were doing. I think they got used to my staring at the work in progress.

I can honestly say that I did not offer one meaningful idea or suggestion to the entire project. Frankly, I don't think my sidewalk superintendent's job description says I am required to actually do anything. But moral support? Hey, I can dish it out with the best of 'em.

Our younger son called from San Antonio in the middle of the Great Driveway Performance Art. He is moving to a new apartment and called to let us know he and a friend -- a friend with power tools -- had been building storage shelves and computer desks. Both our sons have quite a recital they give for friends, relatives, neighbors and complete strangers about their many interesting experiences helping their father do weekend projects.

I asked Younger Son if he remembered the entire vocabulary that is often useful in such situations. "Many manly words were spoken," he said, adding that the overall project was a success, judging by the blue air.

Near the end of the next-door driveway project this week, the owner of the concrete finishing company was admiring the nearby flower bed, now in its summer glory, that is held in place in our yard by a new fieldstone wall.

"Who did you get to do the landscaping?" he asked.

You can imagine how my chest swelled when I told him I did it myself. The concrete guy had figured out how much I knew about building driveways -- exactly nothing -- but still said complimentary things about the flower bed, even after he found out I was its architect and builder.

Rewards, much like answered prayers, often come to us in little ways. Sometimes we have to be alert to recognize the payoff. I figure I've spent nearly an entire week devoted to making sure someone was on the scene to look over the shoulders of hard-working concrete finishers who knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Thank goodness I was there. Otherwise, I would never have heard the dandy compliment about my flower bed.

That's the way it works sometimes.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.